I go to church in Oakland, and yesterday, the Oakland Marathon ran right past our side lawn. The pastor made good use of this fact in her sermon. Marathons make good metaphors. One thing she mentioned is that long-distance runners hate when spectators tells them that they're "almost there" when there are still miles to go. Those final miles, in fact, are the hardest and most painful, and the runners are not "almost there."
Right now, this feels like the story of my life. I feel like I'm on so many long-distance journeys, and I'm starting to feel it, I'm trying to finish my first novel and get it epublished before summer, and I have so few hours in the week to devote to it that it seems like it will never get done, And then I get to thinking about the sequel and when I'm going to find time for that, and I'm overwhelmed. Then there's the Lupus, which is a journey that will probably never be over, and right now, I'm in the hills, hoping for some flat stretches around the corner. Then there's our effort to adopt a second child, a process that began over two and a half years ago. Even when we do match with an expectant mom, those last days of waiting and hoping and not knowing are brutally long, and you don't feel "almost there" until you're sitting in a hotel room looking at a baby with a dumbfounded look on your face.
So when I limp by and you give me some water, please don't tell me that I'm "almost there." Just remind me that I'm looking good and that I can do it. I'll do the same for you. ;-)
Right now, this feels like the story of my life. I feel like I'm on so many long-distance journeys, and I'm starting to feel it, I'm trying to finish my first novel and get it epublished before summer, and I have so few hours in the week to devote to it that it seems like it will never get done, And then I get to thinking about the sequel and when I'm going to find time for that, and I'm overwhelmed. Then there's the Lupus, which is a journey that will probably never be over, and right now, I'm in the hills, hoping for some flat stretches around the corner. Then there's our effort to adopt a second child, a process that began over two and a half years ago. Even when we do match with an expectant mom, those last days of waiting and hoping and not knowing are brutally long, and you don't feel "almost there" until you're sitting in a hotel room looking at a baby with a dumbfounded look on your face.
So when I limp by and you give me some water, please don't tell me that I'm "almost there." Just remind me that I'm looking good and that I can do it. I'll do the same for you. ;-)
<3
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